


Give Me Some Space

by forevertheworst



Series: I'm Coming With You [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Angst, Band Fic, Bassist Lance, Guitarist Keith (Voltron), Headcanon, M/M, Oblivious Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Pre-Band, Singer Shiro, Timeline What Timeline, Underage Drinking, Why Did I Write This?, band au, drummer Matt, i can't not write angst, this is literally because of a cosplay, wine mom colleen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-05-23 14:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forevertheworst/pseuds/forevertheworst
Summary: Matt, Shiro, and Keith had started a band as a way to relieve stress from their busy lives as students at The Garrison. However, it starts to add stress when the three disagree on the role of their fourth member--is he Sam? Professor Holt? Dad? Even if it's not very punk to have an old guy in the band, who would replace him? The only other bassist Shiro knows is that random high school kid who he's had to sneak into their over-18 shows.This is headcanon crack that started with dumb instagram messages and turned into a four-part monster. Read at your own risk; who knows if it'll actually be completed.





	1. Getting a Lot Done at Band Practice

**Author's Note:**

> Each of these chapters is going to maybe stick with one POV? But who knows. This chapter sure didn't. Matt/Keith

“Matt,” Shiro began gently, an extra layer of concern added to his already-soft _my-boyfriend-is-oblivious_ tone. “It’s…just…not very _punk_ to be in a band with your dad.”

“ _Especially_ ,” Keith butted in, “when _your_ dad is _my_ teacher!”

Matt shifted his drumsticks to one hand, realizing that Keith’s passing comment might actually turn into a discussion. “Wait, you guys are serious?”

Keith answered by furrowing his brow just that much deeper and attempting to cross his arms. The effect was dampened, however, when the guitar strapped across his body thwarted his efforts. He let out a huff as his fists fell to his sides. Scowl was still there, though.

Shiro barely stopped his eye roll at Keith’s overly-dramatic reaction and tailored his response to be a bit more…calm. Stepping away from the mic and toward Matt’s set, he tried to create a closeness but was hindered by the large bass drum.

“This band was supposed to be a way to blow off steam, right?” Shiro asked down toward Matt. “It’s my last year, Keith _needs_ an excuse to leave the dorm, and you’ve gotta take a step back from the 50 _billion_ courses you insanely decided to take…”

Despite the fact that Shiro’s looming over him seemed to be turning this into a lecture, Matt smirked at yet another jab at his course overload; Shiro wouldn’t be complaining if he knew _why_.

_I should probably tell him soon,_ Matt’s mind wandered. _There’s a line between “happy surprise” and “lying by omission.” Maybe tonight? That’d be romantic, yeah? Grand gesture, and all that. Shiro likes that dumb stuff._

“…and that’s the main issue. Sam’s a different person to each of us, so we can’t all connect. That affects the music! The sound doesn’t _fuse,_ dude!”

Matt had tuned out the middle of Shiro’s lecture, but the ending remarks renewed his smirk while he noticed that Keith, too, failed to hold in a snort. No matter the task, Shiro always put in maximum effort, so it must kill him that the band is just…bad. So bad.

It actually doesn’t make sense how _bad_ they are, considering each individual member is insanely talented. Matt’s played drums since he was five, when Sam Holt thought his son’s ADHD diagnosis should be channeled into productive chaos. Learning the drums would teach him focus; it had nothing to do with the older musician’s secret Partridge Family fantasy (and while Sam loved his daughter, obviously, he was still a little bitter that Pidge picked up coding before she could do the same with a guitar).

Keith’s Fender Stratocaster was one of the few possessions he had brought with him five years ago when he moved in with the Shiroganes, and it was the only thing—besides a singular suitcase of clothing—that he moved with him to the Garrison. Those acts alone highlighted the place of honor Keith afforded the instrument, but his playing confirmed it when his fingers would stretch along the fret, skillful yet gentle.

Shiro’s vocal talents were the most recent discovery. It had happened the previous year on Matt’s birthday, the result of a combined sugar high as well as another high that was a little less legal (as the best discoveries are). When Matt had realized Shiro’s singing voice retained its huskiness even after the smoke had cleared his lungs, it was a no-brainer to beg to hear it more often.

“So we’ll start with ‘Drugs and Candy’,” Shiro mused, naming the song inspired by the night Matt had just been reliving. He held a scrap of paper close to his face, examining the multiple crossed-out titles and arrows, and somehow making sense of it all.

It was clear that Sam/Dad/Professor Holt’s role in the band was not going to be solved that night as Shiro transitioned to talking about the night’s set list.

Despite them being—again— _so bad_ , they had booked a gig at the local dive bar, their first official paid set. Matt had a sneaking suspicion that it was the owner’s way of thanking him and Shiro for their patronage, which made him feel slightly guilty, considering that patronage had been based on the guarantee that the bar didn’t ID. It was because of Janine’s that Matt never ended up getting a fake; his 20-year-old self was totally fine drinking at the same bar until this time next year ( _if_ he and Shiro were still in town…).

Matt twirled a stick around his fingers as Shiro listed their short set, but he stopped to point the stick directly in Shiro’s face when his boyfriend rounded it off with “Need Some Space.” _That one_.

Shiro didn’t possess psychic powers, though, so he nearly went cross-eyed as he looked down the end of the stick at Matt. “Yes?”

Matt pulled his hand back, only to lift it up to his forehead and push back his ginger fringe. “Oh, nothing,” he teased in a sing-song voice.

Spying Keith out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed a trademark Shirogane Eye Roll that Keith must’ve picked up from his adopted brother. While Keith finally seemed okay with the idea of the two of them being a couple, he still judged the two other boys for their terrible flirting.

Looking back at Shiro, Matt realized he hadn’t yet answered the question, and just to push Keith’s buttons a little more, quickly followed with, “I was just wondering what you were doing before the show. If you wanted to hang out at my place.”

That last statement came accompanied by an eyebrow wiggle that, despite its ridiculousness, still leaves Shiro blushing. However, he still was able to sputter out, “We—we _live together,_ Matt. Your place is also _my_ place!”

 

* * *

 

 

Turning away from the pair and their ridiculous behavior, Keith knelt to pack away his Strat, knowing that since the flirting had started, little else was going to get done. He’d have to endure being seen in public with his Astrophysics professor at least once.

The sounds of cloth running across strings and latches closing carefully drowned out whatever the two older boys were discussing. Keith honed in on the satisfying _click_ before moving one of his hands to his knee, a brace to support both him and the added weight of the guitar as he stands.

After turning, he noticed the flirtation between his brother and Matt had died down in favor of them both staring at him, looks on their faces suggesting they’re waiting for a response from him.

“Uh, say that again?” he requested, running a hand through the layered black mess on his head.

“Are you gonna crash with us tonight?” Shiro politely repeated.

Keith opened his mouth to give an affirmation, but his eyes flickered over to Matt, leaning on the bass drum behind Shiro and giving a small head shake with wide eyes. When Matt’s golden ones met Keith’s purple, he knew the drummer had plans Shiro doesn’t know about.

“Yeah, no,” he blurted, reverting back to the Midwestern phrase he’s always hated. “I’m gonna try to find a ride back to campus.”

_A bummer_ , he thinks. Shiro and Matt’s apartment being a couple blocks away from Janine’s means that any drunk stumblings home are short and unlikely to result in any awkward Uber interactions. Keith doesn’t join them often because Shiro’s not happy about Keith drinking so young, and Keith can’t always deal with Shiro’s conflicted face without being flooded with guilt. That night’s show was a paying gig, though—one that came with bar service for all the bands on the bill. And Keith had planned to take advantage of that—without Professor Holt noticing, _of course_.

“I’ll find a way,” he mumbled to himself, trying to hide how much he feels like a third wheel _again_.

His downward spiral halted when the side door to the garage opened, and Pidge popped her head in.

“Hey Matt, Dad just called to let us know he’s on his way back from campus. You guys are all staying for dinner, right?”

Her gaze shifted to Keith, and while she doesn’t say anything to him, she offered a small wave, a sign that at least _someone_ notices him. After giving a lift of his hand in exchange, her focus returned to her brother, whose eyes had gone comically wide at the realization that he’s going to have to tell his mom that he’s bailing on family dinner.

Shiro must have recognized that Matt was on the verge of concocting some absurd lie because he simply said, “Hey Katie! Actually, according to Matt, we have to get back to our apartment before the show. So we’re gonna have to pass, sorry.”

Her waist-length hair passed along her back as she tilted her head and scrunched up her nose. “Ew, don’t be gross, you two. And whatever, I didn’t want Matt to stay anyway. But who’s going to tell Dad about the meeting and tonight’s show?”

An inevitability Matt obviously hadn’t taken into consideration. That’s clear when his and Shiro’s eyes meet, having a telepathic conversation in about three seconds, both turning to Keith warily.

Keith closed his eyes before they even ask. “I-I’ll stay and hang out,” he offered, making sure to add, “I’ll tell him about tonight but not the…other thing. It’s fine.”

He opened his eyes back up to clear looks of relief on both faces of the older boys.

With soft eyes, Shiro offered a simple, “Thanks, Keith.”

Matt, for obvious reasons, had turned sheepish and stayed silent.

Pidge sneaks in to the garage to steal the best spot on the couch as the two boys packed up their equipment, going so far as to carry it out to Shiro’s truck so that Keith and Sam won’t be burdened with it later. Keith sat next to Pidge and watched them, only getting up once the truck has been completely loaded. Joining them in the driveway, he offered Matt a conciliatory smile and accepted Shiro’s offer to meet up later in the week once the show’s craziness has died down (while internally telling himself it wouldn’t actually happen). He assured them both that he’d only share the necessary information at dinner, and when Pidge joins at his side, the two wave at their older brothers as the truck pulls out of the driveway.

Once the truck turned the corner of the cul-de-sac, Keith let out a sigh, spurring Pidge to give him a small smile.

“C’mon, let go knock out some Overwatch before we have to eat and listen to Dad talk about peas _again_.”

Keith followed her into the Holt’s main house, hoping that the video game would drown the worries he had about that night’s show.


	2. Drinking Wine is Something Mature Adults Do

Matt and Shiro drove the fifteen minutes back to their apartment, stopping at Janine’s to unload their gear. While it was more difficult with only two people, the benefits were multiple. They could walk to the bar for the show, which meant they could drink a bit at home beforehand and there’d be no drinking and driving. Too, Keith would probably be happy to have avoided the extra work.

And Matt could probably stand to get back on Keith’s good side. That Shiro had avoided talk about the band on the drive told Matt that he hadn’t taken the earlier conversation seriously enough.

To be fair, though, it had kind of come out of nowhere? Or, at least, it had seemed like it. The way that Shiro had tried to keep the peace means that he and Keith had probably already talked about it. Without Matt.

 _Which is fine,_ Matt reminded himself. _They are brothers, and they are allowed to do things without you._

It was a thought Matt had to remember often. Especially when he and Shiro had first started dating and everything and everyone had seemed like a threat in Matt’s overactive imagination.

But this was different. This had felt more like…a coordinated attack? Not to mention the fact that Shiro was graduating in May, more than likely headed to Texas with Matt’s father to coordinate the Kerberos mission. The band wasn’t exactly a _priority_ , in comparison…

Once Shiro parked at their apartment complex, Matt had to forcibly pull himself from that line of thinking. It was the night of their first paid show, they didn’t have classes tomorrow, and Matt had finally confirmed his graduation eligibility earlier that day.

Which means he could tag along to Houston.

Which he was going to tell Shiro about at the show.

Because, y’know, _romance_ and all that bullshit.

The two young men climbed the stairs to their third-floor apartment, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the stairwell. Shiro had started the climb a few seconds before Matt, and since Matt was keeping pace, it meant he got an eyeful.

Yes, moving furniture up two flights of stairs initially had really sucked, but the daily climb had also made the already-fit Shiro _thicker_ in the best of ways, and Matt had to stop himself from groping his boyfriend in the technically-public stairwell.

No promises for what would happen once inside the apartment, though.

After unlocking the door and entering, Shiro tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter and went directly to the fridge. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed a can of the shitty PBR someone had left at their place after a recent party, turned to glance at Matt, then grabbed a second can with a small sigh.

Like Keith, Matt was still technically underage—at least for a few more weeks—but there was apparently a difference in Shiro’s mind when the minor he was providing alcohol to was his boyfriend and not his brother.

Matt had sat himself down on their crappy IKEA couch, catching the beer when Shiro passed it his way with a small toss.

Opening the can, Matt watched as Shiro took a large chug of the beer, a grimace on his face when the can was pulled from his lips.

“You know…we have other things to drink. You don’t have to _force_ yourself to drink this,” Matt chuckled.

“I just want it out of our fridge as quick as possible,” Shiro argued. “And if I ever find out who brought it in the first place, I’m beating them up.”

“It was 100% Pat. You know he’s all about ‘the vibe,’” Matt added, with air quotes, “of the suburban pop punk kid. ‘I hate this town, let’s move to California, only eat pizza.’ That whole thing.”

Shiro rolled his eyes and took another large gulp. “I hate him.”

Another laugh escaping, Matt patted Shiro’s thigh. “I know, I know. I will never invite Pat and his shitty beer back here ever again.”

Shiro moved his right hand to cover Matt’s left.

“He can come back. He just has to leave the beer at home.”

“That’s reasonable,” Matt whispered, his fingers intertwining with Shiro’s. ”Finish that, and I’ll go grab a bottle of wine.”

Shiro’s eyes widened at that. Wine wasn’t exactly a pregame beverage for a pop punk show. And Matt wasn’t exactly a wine drinker.

“Yeah, you…you said you wanted to hang out before the show?” Shiro offered up as a question, even though he already knew the answer. “Actually,” he added, eyebrows furrowing again, “it seemed like you had something planned for before _and_ after the show?”

Matt held back a curse, knowing Keith’s quick glance toward him hadn’t gone unnoticed by Helicopter Brother Shiro.

“Yep!” He quickly brightened, “but obviously you’ll not understand the after-show hangout until….well, _after_ the show.”

“Ah,” Shiro smiled, “I should’ve known better than to try and discover your secrets.”

 _You have no idea_ , Matt thought.

Out of his mouth, though, came, “Well, duh. Plus, you’re really bad at guessing anyway...”

He lifted himself off the couch, turning to offer Shiro a hand to do the same.

“…so I guess I’ll just have to show you,” he finished with another ludicrous eyebrow waggle.

Shiro’s eyes doubled in size at Matt’s offer, reaching his hand out while stammering, “Uh…uh, Matt, we’ve gotta be back in, like, _an hour_ , y’know? Are we gonna have time…?”

Shiro’s voice trailed away as Matt dragged him toward their bedroom, stopping in the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses, and his inability to finish the question left Matt with a smirk.

Pushing the bedroom door open, Matt turned, “Shiro, what _exactly_ do you think I’m about to show you?”

Shiro had to give an obvious gulp before answering, “I have no idea. You are a bit terrifying in that way. And you’re willingly going to drink _wine?!_ ”

Matt couldn’t help but laugh at the blunt honesty of Shiro’s answer.

“C’mon, I am a mature adult! I can drink wine. And do other mature adult things.”

He almost felt bad about how red Shiro turned with the implications of his answer, especially considering that he had to make it a little bit worse still, having stashed the dumb present under the bed.

Matt shoved a fully-clothed Shiro onto their bed, but instead of climbing over him (as Shiro probably expected), Matt dove into their under-the-bed storage. Grabbing what he needed, he peeked his head above the mattress to catch Shiro’s eye before raising himself up the rest of the way.

The view did not disappoint. Shiro’s eyes were clouded and dark, and Matt spent half a second questioning his own decision-making process before lifting himself onto the bed, bringing his recent purchase into view as well.

Shiro’s eyes quickly darted to his left hand, clearly hoping to learn more about Matt’s plans.

Finally seeing what Matt had, Shiro let out a sigh. “You…are a demon,” he huffed, closing his eyes, and Matt _had to_ laugh. “I hate you so much.”

When he reopened his eyes, they were far clearer, and Matt was a bit offended at how quickly Shiro could calm himself down.

Because Shiro had worked himself up over…a package of temporary tattoos. Matt gripped his purchase tighter, knowing it was far less…intimate…than he had let on. But he was committed to the bit now.

“Why don’t you let me open this bottle while you slip into something a bit more…comfortable.”

Shiro sighed, but let a small smile escape as he sat up, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt to lift it over his head.

Matt wished he had been a bit classier in his wine selection because, damn, a cork pop would’ve been a perfect reaction to Shiro’s chest reveal. Instead, he had to make do with a twist top and an over-exaggerated shout.

Finally playing along, Shiro took the overly-full glass of wine from Matt and asked, “Do you have the rest of the supplies?”

Choking on his own spit, Matt continued to regret how innocent this was going to be.

“Yeah, yup, lemme go grab ‘em,” he answered, slipping into their attached bathroom to grab a washcloth and a cup of water.

Since Matt had met him, Shiro had talked about getting a tattoo. While NASA had no rules about astronauts being inked, most of the flight schools or military divisions typically had different regulations, and The Garrison—whose mission pilot program was the most elite—frowned at most things that defied uniformity. When Shiro’s parents had died last year, talks about a tattoo resurfaced, but he never followed through. Matt secretly thought that was because Shiro wasn’t quite ready to symbolize his grief, not because The Garrison would reprimand him. Shiro _had_ decided to bleach a stripe down the middle of his hair, though, and Commander Iverson had turned so red that Matt thought he might actually pop a blood vessel.

Returning to their bed, Matt ran his fingers through those bleached strands, joking, “You’re gonna look like a real band boy now.”

Shiro smiled back at him, “For a few days, at least. What about you?”

“Two steps ahead of you.”

Matt rolled up the sleeve of his plaid shirt, showing off the wolf and roses he had applied to his forearm earlier that day.

Shiro ran his finger over the designs, “Hm. Hot.”

Matt felt his face burn, but refused to acknowledge it. “Well, yeah. I’m gonna show them off to all my groupies tonight.”

“Oh, okay.” To his credit, Shiro _almost_ held back his laugh, so Matt only gave him a light shove. “What kind of designs do I get to choose from?”

“Ah, I’ve already picked them out for you. So you just drink that wine, and let the artist work.”

Shiro took a small sip, hardly making a dent, and slid his eyes over to his left arm, where Matt was arranging a number of papers on his skin. Matt could tell he was trying to be sneaky, but it was so _obvious_ , so he jabbed a finger at his nose.

“No peeking.”

Shiro huffed a small laugh, but faced forward again to stare pointedly at his glass of wine.

Matt made sure to have all of the tattoos arranged where he wanted them before wetting the entire washcloth, wrapping it around Shiro’s arm and holding it there for the required five minutes.

As the two men waited, the two men chatted about the upcoming show, discussing the headlining bands and what sort of gear they used. Because Matt’s hands were stuck holding the washcloth, Shiro gave him sips from his own wine glass. Matt’s “sips,” though, were a little bit bigger than the ones Shiro took, so by the time the tattoos were ready to be revealed, the glass was almost empty.

“Are you ready for this?” Matt asked.

Shiro rolled his eyes, knowing that he was going to regret this so badly, and nodded.

After removing the washcloth, Matt lifted the damp paper from Shiro’s arm.

An arm that was now covered in glitter butterflies.

“MATT.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a video from ten years ago of Alex and Jack from All Time Low doing an interview in bed, shirtless, with wine. And also the time in high school when my best friend and I covered ourselves in temporary tattoos.
> 
> I'm sorry you had to read this.


	3. Colleen Starts to Get Drunk and That's All that Matters

Once Matt finished laughing at his handiwork, Shiro realized that the two wouldn’t have time to remove the tattoos, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to put on new ones. So instead of putting up a fight, Shiro simply rolled his eyes at the planning and effort Matt must have gone through, then grabbed his purple American Apparel hoodie to cover his forearm.

“What? You’re not gonna show these off to the world, babe?”

Shiro could see Matt’s smirk out of the corner of his eye but refused to acknowledge it. It was a cute prank, but any indication that Shiro thought so would give Matt ammunition for any and all future endeavors. He obviously couldn’t wear the hoodie once in the venue—March in Arizona wasn’t terrible, but it could still get up in the 80s most days. And Janine’s did not prioritize air conditioning.

“Matt, we have a _brand_ to protect, and I’m not sure _butterflies_ are a part of that,” Shiro finally responded, attempting to look stern.

His boyfriend must have seen through it immediately, though, because he immediately burst into laughter.

“Okay, one: Did you just call our band a _brand?_ Really, dude? Ain’t no one wearing our logo around. I’m pretty sure our last MySpace comment is from my _mom_ , telling me to unload the goddamn dishwasher.”

Shiro tried to hide his smile; he knew exactly what comment Matt was talking about. Colleen had taken to bugging her son through social media when he visited, knowing that he’d more than likely have headphones on while holed up in his room.

“…And two: Did we not just talk about your hair? I’m pretty sure the guy who’s hair is just one giant ‘fuck you’ to the Garrison’s _brand_ would understand the importance of breaking the mold!”

Matt paused for a moment, mouth still open as if to continue with this line of thinking.

“No, wait, nope. I’d like to change that second point.”

Humoring him, Shiro offered, “go ahead,” with a simple head nod.

“Okay, so,” he began with a new spark in his eye, “ _Two_ : Why can’t glitter butterflies be a part of our brand? Pop punk could use a little more gay. **We** could be that gay!”

“Yeah, but Matt, you are not gay. I am not gay.”

“No, but Keith is.”

“Maybe, but he has not said as much to either of us, so let’s not assume.”

“ _Goddamnit, Shiro_. This is a band in which three of the members are, assumedly, at times, men attracted to other men. And really, who knows about Dad. You also _know_ I am using ‘gay’ as a term to broadly encompass a larger, more diverse community.”

“Yeah,” Shiro finally let his smile shine through, “you should’ve just stuck with your original second point.”

Matt opened his mouth to retaliate, but no actual words came out. Instead, he spun around with an over-exaggerated sigh, throwing his arms up as he walked out their bedroom door. It wasn’t until he had disappeared around the corner that he finally found his voice to shout his response to Shiro.

“WHY DO I EVEN LIKE YOU.”

 

* * *

 

 

The two of them spent their walk to Janine’s arguing semantics, and it reminded Shiro just how lucky he was to have a boyfriend as nerdy as Matt. They both had a myriad of interests that often overlapped, but even if they didn’t share a particular passion, the two were compatible enough to carry a conversation about anything. It made for great lyric fodder. It also meant that Shiro could see them carrying on like they were for years, no expiration date for their relationship in sight.

 _I’ve gotta tell him about Houston_ , Shiro realized. … _But not tonight._

He walked on, the only indication that he was thinking about something different than the topic at hand was the way he gripped Matt’s hand a little tighter. The ten-minute walk to the bar was otherwise low-key, a short trek they’d made multiple times in the past eight months.

When they walked in the front doors, still unlocked (because who was going to try to sneak in early to a local show like this?) and slightly ajar, Shiro immediately realized his mistake.

Because Keith was sitting at one of the few lopsided tables with Sam and Colleen, but Pidge was nowhere in sight. Because it was an 18+ show, and Pidge was decidedly not 18+.

Which meant that while Keith might have had her support during dinner, he had spent the drive over--as well as however long they’d been at the bar--alone with the two adults.

_He’s never going to forgive me._

Matt and Shiro’s entrance flooded the gloomy bar with light, so the trio at the table were immediately drawn to their arrival.

“Boys!” Colleen shouted in a way that made it clear that she’d already indulged in a glass or wine or two…or three.

“Hey…Mom,” Matt responded with only the slightest of flinches.

Shiro was honed in on Keith, though. The tick in his jaw made it immediately obvious that something had happened that he’d be sour about for the rest of the night.

As Sam offered up his own hello, Keith shoved off from the table, waiting until he was rushing past Shiro to mumble, “I’m getting a drink.”

Well, it was going to be that kind of night.

Matt joined his parents at the table, but Shiro guessed that he’d be better suited to following Keith and learning what had happened.

Kenny was at the bar, making Keith some sort of clear beverage, when Shiro approached.

“Hey, man. Whiskey ginger?”

“Yeah,” Shiro accepted. “That’d be great. Thanks dude.”

“Miller Lite for Matt?”

“As always, until he learns better.”

Kenny huffed a small laugh as he continued to mix Keith’s drink. “Right?”

“So…” Shiro sidled up to Keith. “What’s up? How was dinner?”

A very-obvious side eye before a “fine.”

 _Oh. That bad_.

Shiro ran through his “Big Brother Conversation Techniques” before landing on _Awkward Body Nudge_ , and so he leaned over and gently threw his body weight on Keith in a way that he knew the younger man could handle.

“Okay, fine,” was all he offered in response.

Under the extra weight and awkward tension, Keith broke after a minute of holding up Shiro’s muscle-laden torso.

“Okay, okay, get _off_ of me. I’ll talk!” Keith shouted as he shoved at Shiro’s bicep.

Shiro sat up as he reclaimed control of the conversation.

“Tell me about it.”

“…It’s nothing. Sam and Colleen just asked about my plans after you graduate. It’s fine,” Keith’s voice quieted to a mumble. “Not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

Shiro noticed that Keith’s fingers ran up and down his condensation-laden drink, but he failed to wipe the droplets off as he typically did. Though the heavy bangs of his dark hair covered his eyes, Keith was clearly concerned about the unclear nature of his older brother’s graduation plans.

 _I’m gonna have to tell_ him _about Houston, too,_ Shiro realized. … _But not tonight._

The interpersonal relationships of the Garrison’s interstellar exploration program were obviously becoming an issue. Shiro furrowed his eyebrows in realization that Commander Iverson has warned both him and Sam about this at the beginning of the school year—when the two had anticipated being tasked with mission control for the Kerberos exploration.

But conversations about such weren’t to be had at fucking _Janine’s._ This was the place for cheap drinks and occasionally acceptable music. And that’s why their band was there.

At this realization, Shiro steeled himself to continue to hide his news from his younger brother for just a bit longer. He grabbed his Jameson from Kenny and took a large gulp.

“I’m sorry, Keith. You know I wish I could tell you more. It sucks.”

For just a moment, Shiro let himself truly feel those words. Because, while they were true, they had become a platitude as Shiro became more entrenched in a mission that he’d long dreamed of. He knew that he should tell Keith, that Keith would be thrilled for him, but that moving to Houston would mean leaving Keith alone at the Garrison. After being offered the job, Shiro regretted selling his parents’ house after their death because it meant that Keith had lost another home. But neither one of them had wanted to keep it, and the most practical option was making sure Matt and Shiro’s apartment had a second bedroom for Keith while the money from selling the house (and life insurance) went toward Keith’s tuition.

Keith would obviously still have that spare room in the apartment, but Shiro doubted that Keith and Matt would make good roommates without him keeping the peace.

The whole situation was _complicated_ , and despite his leadership tendencies, Shiro avoided conflict like the plague if it meant he’d be letting down his loved ones. So he still said nothing.

He and Keith sat in an awkward silence at the bar for a few minutes longer, nursing their drinks with unparalleled attention. Staring at his own glass, Shiro was startled out of his internal musings when Kenny asked Keith, “Another?”

“Yep,” Keith replied quickly, pushing his empty glass across the bar. “And make it a double.”

He must have felt Shiro’s glare because he finally turned to look at his older brother.

“What? The short glass is a pretty obvious giveaway. This way I can tell Sam and Colleen that it’s just a Sprite.”

Kenny delivered the tall glass at that moment, either unaware of the conversation or just unbothered by why Keith would need to pretend his drink was non-alcoholic.

“Here you go, dude. And just remember, an open band tab is a gift, not a challenge. I’ll cut any of you boys off if I need to. Got it?”

Keith nodded his understanding, and Kenny quickly dropped his responsible act when he turned to Shiro. “Another?”

“Kenny, man, I’m still working on this one. But let me drop this beer off for Matt, and I’ll be sure to stop by again before doors open.”

He smiled before turning around to head back to the Holt family, but he didn’t miss Keith’s eye roll.

“What?” Shiro couldn’t help questioning what the teen was judging now.

“Nothing,” Keith started. “Just your ability to make even a straight guy develop a crush on you.”

Shiro sputtered into his drink, forcing him to wipe down his hoodie before getting back to the table.

“Kenny does _not_ have a crush on me.”

Keith’s side eye was even more pronounced than his eye roll, and he very clearly waited until he was sliding back into his seat at the table, Holt family listening in, to respond.

“Kenny _does_ have a crush on you, but it is not surprising that you haven’t noticed, as you are the most oblivious man on the planet.”

Matt pulled the beer bottle that Shiro had just handed him away from his mouth to offer up, “He’s got a point there.” He then took a long pull to try to hide the smirk that Shiro had still caught.

Colleen erupted into a fit of giggles, though Shiro wasn’t sure if the case was the exchange between Keith and her son or Shiro’s agape mouth. Sam gave his own gentle laugh, though his eyes were stuck on the bottle in Matt’s hands. Shiro watched the debate behind his eyes before he finally turned to look at Shiro and caught his staring. Sam gave a small eyebrow raise and shoulder shrug before putting in his two cents.

“Takashi, I watched my son pine over you for almost a year. I’m taking their side.”

Shiro was denied his own reaction as Matt exploded, face turning a violent shade of red, “DAD. Not. Cool! First, don’t call my boyfriend by his first name; I don’t even do that. Second, I am your _son_ , and you betray me like that?! Wow. Okay. Wow. You totally like Shiro more than me, don’t you?”

While the Holts laughed over Sam’s quick, “of course,” Shiro glanced at Keith, who had been silent throughout the conversation. Him being quiet wasn’t surprising, but considering recent conversations, Shiro was disheartened to see Keith staring into a void, ignoring the present in what Shiro recognized as a clear defense mechanism.

The conversation changed topics as the other bands of the night ran sound check. The boys wouldn’t get but a few minutes to run a check right before their set, as was customary for small local openers.  Doors open, and a small trickle of people entered the venue, arriving early to snag a table for the night (let’s be real, they definitely didn’t care about the opening band).

Through it all, though, Keith remained disengaged. Reentering Big Brother Mode, Shiro leaned over  and opened his mouth to ask about school, but he never got that chance.

“Hey, uh, Shiro,” Kenny started, clasped the seated man’s shoulder, “there’s someone at the door for you. Wanna come check it out?”

Four pairs of eyes reflected the confusion Shiro himself was feeling, but he used both hands to shove off his thighs to stand, simultaneously dislodging Kenny’s hand.

“Mm, yeah, let’s go see who this mystery person is. I’ll be right back!” He pointed this last sentence toward Keith rather than Matt, hoping his brother would understand that Shiro still enjoyed his presence.

Keith wasn’t looking at him, though, and Shiro turned around too quickly to see Matt’s face scrunch up in confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't going to post this because WEIRD, the place I had this story going actually resembles what we now know about Shiro's back story (though obvs I had Matt in the place of Adam). But I might still finish it if not to throw in meme jokes.


	4. Colleen Keeps Drinking; Shiro Starts Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro makes questionable decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm a trash person.

“Hey, uh, Shiro…I’m not sure if you remember me,” the lanky boy began, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand as he cast his blue eyes downward, “but we went to high school together? Not like, the same grade. Duh. Because I’m still there. But I’ve been to a few of your shows?”

Shiro attempted to maintain his composure as Lance fumbled with his words, though he knew exactly where the conversation was going.

“Anyway, like I said,” Lance continued, “I’m still there. A.k.a. I’m not _quite_ eighteen in the way that someone needs to be in order to attend an eighteen-plus show. And I don’t wanna put you in an awkward spot, but I didn’t know who else to ask. Like, I don’t know that old guy at all, or your drummer, and Keith is, well…”

Lance cut himself off as a blush spread across his cheeks, and Shiro couldn’t hold in the small laugh that escaped his lips. It probably made things worse, though, as Lance’s head shot up, and his blush intensified.

Attempting to mollify the boy, Shiro began, “Yeah, hey Lance, I definitely remember you. You’re in the orchestra, right? You play bass? I definitely remember you; I went to a couple of the performances with Keith when he was a senior last year.”

Shiro immediately realized that last bit was the wrong thing to have said when Lance’s eyes widened in terror.

“ _What?!_ Keith _saw me_? Wait, _when_? Dear God, I hope it wasn’t the Spring Recital; I completely flubbed the last piece, and I’m pretty sure I had a HUGE zit, and _oh go_ —“

“LANCE.” Shiro had to stop the rambling. It was precious, and it was oh so telling, but Shiro didn’t want the kid to have an aneurysm. His shout has cut Lance off, but now he had to make a decision. “Uh, I get it, I think. You need a way in, yeah? I’ll put you on our guest list. We have a couple spots, and I’m pretty sure we only used one or two. I’ll have them add your name, and that should stop them from checking i.d. Is that okay?”

Lance’s starry-eyed expression made it seem more like Shiro had told him he’d won the lottery (or that Keith liked him back) than just put his name down for a show that cost five bucks, but it was endearing nonetheless.

“YES,” Lance responded, throwing himself forward as if he wanted to hug Shiro, but he caught himself before that happened and smoothed his hands across the denim vest he has layered over a plain blue hoodie. “Uh, yeah, that’d be rad, dude. Thanks.”

Internally laughing (and externally smirking) at Lance’s feigned nonchalance, Shiro had to goad him one last time. “Well, yeah, we’ve gotta show love to our one fan, right?”

Lance’s blush renewed at “love,” but he recovered quickly as he averted his eyes to the wall at his left and noticed something of apparent interest.

“Uh,” he started, completely ignoring Shiro’s comment, “can I have this?”

He was already reaching out to the small computer-printed flyer for that night’s show before he even got an answer. Shiro’s eyes flickered over it quickly to note the night’s line-up including their band in small print at the bottom.

“Heh, yeah, dude, take it. I’ll give Kenny your name. Doors open in half an hour, and we go on half an hour after that, so I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

Lance’s smile was so genuine that Shiro doubted for a moment exactly who the younger boy had a crush on, but he quickly erased that thought, smiled, and went back inside.

His return into the dingy bar caught the eye of multiple people, and Shiro was immediately overwhelmed with the decision of who to respond to first. It was clear that in the few minutes he’d been gone, things had deteriorated between Keith and the Holts, and it seemed like Keith, Matt, and Sam _all_ wanted Shiro’s attention. Colleen seemed content with her glass of pinot grigio. Additionally, though, Kenny was waving him over from the bar.

Picking what seemed like the easiest and the quickest fix, Shiro walked over to the bar first. Kenny gave him a wide grin as he continued to wipe a pint glass dry.

“Ready for that second drink?” Kenny asked.

Glancing down at his drink, Shiro realized he must have absent-mindedly drained his whiskey ginger during his brief conversation with Lance, so he consented with a slide of the glass toward the bartender.

“Yeah, man, thanks, but that’s the last one until after our set, okay?” Shiro decided as Kenny began to mix him another drink—one that seemed _strong_ by the measure of whiskey he counted out. “Also, uh, I’ve got a last-minute addition to our guest list, if that’s okay.”

Kenny’s smile faltered for a millisecond before it grew. “Of _course_ , dude. You know I’ve got you. Anything you need, anytime, I’ve got your back.”

Normally, Shiro wouldn’t read anything into the words except an offer of friendship, but as Kenny slid the freshly-mixed drink across the bar, Shiro paused to assess the situation as he picked it up. Kenny’s smile remained the same, but his eyes roamed across Shiro’s chest, running from his shoulders, down his biceps, until the gaze lingered on his hands as he grabbed the glass.

And _fuck_ , Keith was right.

And all of a sudden, Matt’s concerned face before Shiro left the table made more sense. Shiro knows about Matt’s insecurities because weed and wine and cuddling are the main ingredients for Confession Time, so they’ve already had the talk about Matt’s concerns regarding Shiro’s pansexuality. After clarifying his tendency toward monogamy, Shiro had initially laughed off Matt’s concerns regarding his “physical appearance,” but it seemed like Shiro had been missing some signals, if the current situation was anything to go by.

And he had gone to Kenny first? Well, dammit.

Putting on a “polite-but-disinterested” face, Shiro returned Kenny’s smile. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that. I feel like you and I are practically friends at this point.”

And with that awkward attempt at the Friend Zone, Shiro quickly turned around to head back to his boyfriend’s table, focused on validating feelings and assuring faithfulness.

 


End file.
